


don’t give up on me

by stormysirens



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Blood, Blood and Injury, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mostly Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, like the It standard of an injury, thats all minor though, what is this clown doing in my love story?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23251387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormysirens/pseuds/stormysirens
Summary: “Eddie…” he breathed, but everything in that moment felt so heavy. Richie was so tired, and Eddie kept rubbing those gentle circles on his cheek. His bones ached and his face hurt and he knew that he couldn’t keep his eyes open for much longer.Eddie’s expression was so open and honest.“I wouldn’t ever forget you.”Richie was asleep before he could even get the letter “I” out of his mouth.- or the five times in which Richie tries to tell Eddie he loves him, and the one where he actually does -
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 22
Kudos: 176





	don’t give up on me

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first work in the It fandom and even though it was a little challenging for me to write it was so much fun! This piece meant something else for me and it was such a pleasure to work on. I plan on writing more of these two cause I love their characters and the concept of this universe. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy! 
> 
> (also, follow me on Instagram, @stormysirens)

# i.

They were going to die here.

In this evil house, whose beating heart was a rock-well that lead to fuck-knows-where. Their final resting place would be among the dust and dirt and rotting floorboards. They’d end up just where Richie said they would. Lost, like all those children before them – with their faces printed on forgotten pieces of paper that were scattered across town.

Richie had seen sunflowers growing among the weeds and dead grass outside the house. He didn’t understand how anything so bright could grow in a place like this. He didn’t understand how anything could possibly _live_ or _breathe_ or _exist_ here. Maybe that was the whole point.

Maybe for once in his life Richie should have taken the fucking hint. He and his friends were nothing but light, and this house – that _thing –_ were both ready to snuff them out.

“C’mon, ready?” Bill asked, startling Richie from his daze with a firm grip on his shoulder.

Richie thought. He thought about the projector and the clown and the house’s worn entrance. He thought about the “missing” flyer with his name on it and the filled coffin that said “found.” He thought about Eddie’s head poking out of the mattress, all grey and decayed and spewing black acid. _Wanna play loogie?_

Richie shuddered and shouted, “No!”

But then he was pushing through the door with Bill, praying to god that it wasn’t filled with the same horrors that it had been just moments ago.

_Betty Ripsom. No light. No legs_. ‘ _Where’s my shoe?’_

When they were met with the light of same empty hallway they’d been in five minutes ago, they both heaved a shaky sigh of relief. That relief was cut short, though, when a scream rippled through the house. It was trembling and loud and coming from the first floor.

_Eddie._

He and Bill glanced at each other, then bolted down the stairs, tripping over each other to get to their friend in time. Richie stumbled into the room after Bill, but Eddie’s name was already stumbling from his mouth before he got there.

And then, in that moment, Richie understood what fear _truly_ was.

Richie had been scared before – _of course_ he had. Of liking boys, of being forgotten, of failing that one class he needed to pass the semester…

He’d known fear in different ways. Most things he shied away from were superficial, but even the things that kept him up till dawn because it seeped into his dreams weren’t quite as terrifying as _this._

Nothing could ever be as terrifying as seeing Eddie, _his Eds_ , curled into the back of the room with the Clown’s hand covering his tear streaked face. His arm was broken – all bent and contorted to look exactly like it _shouldn’t_. The other Losers – Ben, Mike, Bev, and Stan – were all huddled together on the opposite side of the room.

The Clown turned away from Eddie to focus his attention on Richie and Bill, and before Richie could gather his thoughts, _It_ was already lunging at them.

_They were going to die here. Among the dust and dirt and sunflowers._

Except maybe they weren’t.

Because from behind his hands, Richie could see Bev spear a rusted fencepost through the Clown’s head _. It’s_ face morphed and shifted so that one of his eyes was protruding from the side along with some oddly angled teeth. He was moaning in what seemed like feigned pain as droplets of blood carried from the wound to the musty ceiling.

“Get Eddie!” had been the phrase to kick everyone into action.

Bill, Richie, and Bev pushed past _It_ to crouch beside their friend who still clutched his arm in discomfort. Mike, Stan, and Ben hung back in the corner, screeching at them to pull Eddie to his feet so they could all get _the fuck_ out of that house _._

Eddie was frozen though, staring bewilderedly at the Clown that had continued to shapeshift before their eyes. Richie let his gaze fall back to _It_ for a moment and was horrified to see the claws that tore through his once gloved hand.

Richie kept a steady hold on Eddie’s face while the Clown crept closer. The shouting got louder, Bev’s grip on his shirt grew tighter, Bill’s face grew sterner.

“Eddie! Eddie look at me! _Look at me!_ ” was the only thing that seemed to fall from his trembling lips. It was a plea, a weak attempt at one too, given how shaky he sounded. Richie just really didn’t want to go like this. He didn’t want his friends to go like this. He especially didn’t want Eddie to go with this ugly _Clown_ being the last thing he saw.

They didn’t die, but everything after seemed to pass in such a blur – moving so fast Richie wasn’t sure if any of it was real or not. Ben got struck with a clawed hand, Bill followed _It_ into the basement, Richie (attempted) to set Eddie’s arm…

They all burst through the front door and rushed to get back to their bikes. After having Mike lift Eddie into his delivery basket, they all pedaled down the street in hopes of finding help or, at least, a safer hiding ground.

Richie’s veins were pumped full of fear and adrenaline. It was something thick that settled in his arteries and left him with an aching, tight chest. He could still feel it settled there when Eddie’s mom shoved him into the front seat of her car and promised that they’d never see Eddie again. He felt it when Bill punched him in the face after Richie begged him to understand _why_ he didn’t want them to go back to that stupid house. Richie _especially_ felt it later that night when he was left with all the collateral damage from earlier and a black eye that his parents didn’t ask about.

Richie tried to sleep. He tried to shake everything from his system so that he could finally get some goddamn rest, but he’d always been bad at being his own damage control.

So, he snuck out, got on his bike, and went to the only place he could think to go.

And yes, maybe Richie should have thought about the killer clown on the loose before he rode those few blocks to get to Eddie’s house, but he wasn’t exactly of the clearest mind that night anyways.

When Richie finally got there, he stashed his bike behind a bush next to the house incase Mrs. K heard something and decided to peek outside. Then he climbed the tree next to Eddie’s window and knocked lightly until he heard shuffling and saw the bedside lamp being flicked on.

Eddie appeared at the window and it was like something in Richie’s system cleared. He could breathe a little easier. His chest didn’t feel as constrained. His head and heart finally stopped pounding. 

Eddie’s eyebrows briefly drew together in confusion before he went to unlatch the window. Catching a glimpse of the fresh, white cast on Eddie’s arm made Richie ache a little. It _was_ a much better alternative than him dying, but still, nobody liked seeing their best friend hurt.

“Richie? What are you doing here?” Eddie questioned. It came out in a hushed whisper, laced with concern and a bit of suspicion considering the time and the mind-tricks they’d endured earlier.

“Oh shit, Eds? Sorry, I thought this was your mom’s window,” Richie shrugged, feigning nonchalance. But they both heard the unsteady tremors in his voice, and the joke fell flat.

It was quiet for a moment, steady. Everything was so still that Richie thought Eddie might even turn away and tuck himself back into bed. He thought that he’d tell Richie to fuck off and let him get some rest. He thought, for the first time since leaving his house, that maybe showing up unannounced after a day like _this_ wasn’t the best idea.

Instead though, Eddie just leaned out of his window and stuck out a hand for Richie to take.

“C’mon, it’s chilly. You’ll catch a cold,” he muttered, pushing past the windowsill a bit more.

Though he found the gesture endearing, Richie really wanted Eddie to get inside before he reached out too far and fell from the second floor.

“Wait, Eds,” Richie said gently, “just – get back in the house. I don’t want to be the reason you break your other arm.”

Eddie huffed, but he still shuffled back so that Richie could pull himself into the room.

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie muttered as Richie clambered through the window, but his words held no real bite.

Richie propped himself up on the edge of Eddie’s desk and felt his shoulders slump forward. He was _exhausted_ and it definitely wasn’t from the ride here or the climb into Eddie’s room.

At home he’d been too strung out and paranoid to sleep. His house was too quiet, _too dark_. Every shadow and corner the moonlight didn’t catch left Richie feeling like he was six years old again – running from things that weren’t really there. Well, things that weren’t _supposed_ to be there, anyways.

Richie would never admit it, but that’s why he ended up here; because Eddie’s house felt more like a home than his ever did. It was all the little things that made it so domestic – Eddie’s nightlight, the ever-present hum of traffic, the constant filter of light through the drawn back curtains in his room.

He came here because he was good at running and Eddie’s house seemed like a nice base. It was lit, and warm, and _safe_.

_As safe as it could feel, given the circumstances._

Richie couldn’t dwell much on that though, because Eddie let out a soft gasp that pulled him from his thoughts.

Before Richie could even question what was wrong, the smaller boy was already stepping into his space. Eddie placed himself between Richie’s legs and braced a casted hand on his left knee. His fingers were outstretched and hesitantly reaching for Richie’s face.

“Richie, _what_?” was all Eddie said before letting his good hand come up to cup Richie’s cheek. 

Richie had been confused at what Eddie was so transfixed with until he felt fingertips pressing into the skin around his eye. He hissed and tried to pull back, but Eddie kept a steady grip on his cheek.

“Jesus, Eds, careful! The wound’s still fresh,” Richie cried, a tad too dramatic for it to be completely real. He tried grinning, but he knew the expression must have looked more like a grimace.

Normally it was easy for him to pass off scrapes and bruises, but this _really_ hurt. The throbbing hadn’t fully subsided and even grazing it when he went to adjust his glasses stung. _Stupid fucking Bill and his good arm._

“Sorry, I just-” Eddie muttered, tracing his fingers beneath the bruise, “what the fuck happened? Was it Bowers?”

Richie could have easily made a joke – could have easily brushed it off with a laugh and a shove to the shoulder. He could have made some stupid remark about how things had _just gotten a little too rough in bed with your mom, Eddie Spaghetti._

But Richie was tired. He was tired of pretending and smiling and joking so that he could steer serious conversations away from himself.

So, instead of saying something dumb just to get a rise out of his friend, he let out a breath and whispered, “It was Bill.”

Richie watched all the emotions play out on his friend’s face. He watched as Eddie’s eyebrows rose and then, after a beat, fell together. He caught glimpses of scattered freckles that folded when he scrunched up his button nose. He marveled at the muted flush of pink that spread from Eddie’s cheeks to the tips of his ears.

Eddie’s grip on his face went lax, then tightened again when he started bombarding Richie with questions.

Richie tried answering them as best he could.

_Yes, right after you left._

_No, you asshole, I didn’t start it!_

_I don’t know, Eds, it just happened._

_He shoved me, I shoved him back, he punched me…_

_I don’t want to go back to that house!_

Eddie stopped with the rapid-fire interrogation at that.

Richie hadn’t meant to say it and he knew his face showed as much. This is exactly why he didn’t like being so honest. If you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth, then you were bound to be left uncomfortably exposed. Richie felt like he’d done just that – put himself on the observation table because his words meant something more than their surface value.

Eddie’s expression softened and his voice grew gentle, “That’s okay. We don’t have to.”

“I’m serious Eddie, I can’t go back. I-”

“Richie, _we aren’t going back to that house,_ ” Eddie insisted, but it felt like an empty promise. Richie thought that maybe if they hoped enough, the universe would give the statement some truth.

Eddie lightly ran his thumb along the peak of Richie’s cheekbone, almost as an afterthought, before he let his hand slip away.

“I’m gonna get you an icepack and some pain meds from downstairs. I bet it still hurts, right?” he asked, slowly pulling away from Richie.

Richie opened his mouth to answer, but the argument must have been obvious on his face because Eddie was already cutting him off, “And don’t lie!”

Richie grumbled a bit in response, but nodded, nonetheless.

Eddie gave a small squeeze to his knee before he walked out of the room and snuck downstairs to grab the things Richie needed. When he returned a few minutes later with Tylenol, a cloth-wrapped icepack, and a glass of water, Richie had already moved to settle himself on the bed.

Richie took the pills (begrudgingly) and held the cool pack to his face as lightly as he could.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as he moved back to lean against the wall.

Eddie went to sit beside him, “Why are you really here, Rich?”

Richie thought it over, then shrugged, “I couldn’t sleep.”

The room fell silent and Richie knew that it was his fault. He had been avoiding this conversation since he got here. Richie figured that Eddie deserved better after the piss-poor way this day had already treated him.

“I couldn’t sleep. And…well, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay,” Richie admitted with a sigh.

“You came all the way over here, _with a killer clown on the loose_ , to come check on me?” Eddie questioned, dumbfounded.

He shrugged again, “That and your mom said she needed some company so-”

Eddie playfully smacked him on the shoulder at this, “Shut up! I’m being serious here!”

Richie chuckled a bit before he fell back into his somber demeanor. His voice was low and shaky when he spoke, “That clown had really done a number on you. And my house felt really empty when I got back. And, I don’t know, I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

Eddie looked at him with furrowed brows, but the expression seemed more pained than it did confused, “ _Richie…_ ”

And then Eddie was tugging at his arm, pulling him so they were both sliding from the wall and further onto the bed. Richie didn’t bother protesting – he didn’t think he had the energy to anyways.

Eddie situated them so that they were facing each other. The whole icepack/casted arm thing left room for a bit of discomfort, but Richie didn’t really mind. They were so _close._ Their knees knocked and their heads bumped, and their breaths mingled in the small space between them. Eddie’s face was illuminated by the soft glow of bedside lamp and he smelled vaguely of hospital disinfectant. It was oddly endearing and morbidly familiar all at once.

The closeness was a welcome comfort for Richie. He’d been exactly here before, lying in bed with his best friend – the boy he loved. He wasn’t exactly sure when that had changed, when his feelings for Eddie became all gooey and warm and soft. He just never really thought to question it. As scary as the prospect was, it only seemed like a natural next step for Richie.

Before Richie could let himself fall down that rabbit hole of thoughts though, Eddie interrupted him for the second time that night.

“Hey Rich?” he whispered.

Richie hummed in acknowledgement.

“I wouldn’t forget you.”

He froze for a moment before he stuttered out a quiet, “What?”

Eddie didn’t say anything for a while. He reached over to pull Richie’s glasses from his face (because they were crooked and probably looked as uncomfortable as they felt) and set them beneath his pillow. Then, he let his hand come to settle on Richie’s cheek again.

He rubbed soothing circles onto the unharmed skin as he spoke, “When you saw the ‘missing’ poster I knew you were scared of being lost. But, you have to know that even if your parents didn’t come or the other Losers didn’t come looking for you, I would have.”

Richie was speechless, but that was okay, Eddie seemed to have enough words for the both of them.

“I wouldn’t forget you. I would walk through all the sewers and rotting houses and grey water I needed to so that I could bring you back.” 

Richie still couldn’t seem to find the words to express how he felt. _Nothing_ could ever express the way this small confession, uttered in the privacy of his best friend’s bedroom, made him feel. The only foolish, jumbled thought his mind could latch onto was _I love you, I love you, I love you._

“Eddie…” he breathed, but everything in that moment felt so heavy. Richie was so _tired,_ and Eddie kept rubbing those gentle circles on his cheek. His bones ached and his face hurt and he knew that he couldn’t keep his eyes open for much longer.

Eddie’s expression was so open and honest.

“ _I wouldn’t ever forget you._ ”

Richie was asleep before he could even get the letter “I” out of his mouth.

**ii.**

Richie was warm.

Not uncomfortably so – not to the point that he’d need to go back home and change into something lighter. Late August in Derry didn’t promise stuck-to-your-skin tee shirts or matted-to your-forehead hair like the earlier summer months did. He wasn’t constantly chugging at his water bottle or itching to jump into the quarry because of the heat digging at his skin.

Richie was warm, but it was a welcome sensation. Feeling the sweat at the back of his knees and the flush that colored his cheeks, was a nice reminder that he was _alive._

He’d never been one to dwell on little things. The whole idea of “stopping to smell the roses” had always seemed more like poetic bullshit than it did actual life advice. But, after defeating Pennywise ( _the dancing fucking clown_ ), Richie actually started to understand the sentiment.

On the bike ride out here, he focused on feeling the sun against his back and the burn in his legs. He memorized how the third step of the clubhouse’s ladder creaked the loudest under his weight. When Richie fell back into the smooth fabric of the hammock, he let his eyes trace a strip of light that peeked in through a break in the wood.

He had spent the entire afternoon basking in comic books and melodies coming from Bill’s old radio. It was simple – a mesh of moments that Richie could appreciate by himself.

That is until the trapdoor to the clubhouse was flung open, allowing more midday light to flood into the dim space.

Richie didn’t have to look up to know that it was Eddie.

His footsteps were a dead giveaway, quick and thudding. He moved like he lived, always in a bit of a rush. Sometimes Eddie spoke like someone accidentally pressed the ‘fast-forward’ button on his settings. He rambled and paced and was constantly _moving_.

Everyone said that Richie was the jumpy one, the twitchy one – the ball of energy you couldn’t catch. But Richie felt that the title belonged to Eddie. He was the anxious one after all – the one to fret over things like loose threads and hang nails.

“Rich?”

Richie kept his eyes glued to the comic in his hands but still hummed in response.

“What are you doing out here by yourself? Where’s everyone else?” Eddie questioned, moving so that he was leaning against one of the hammock’s supporting pillars.

Eddie had a thing about that now. Ever since Neibolt, he’d been wary of branching off from the group. He didn’t like walking or biking places alone anymore. When he needed to stop off at the pharmacy (purely to keep his mother off his back at this point), he’d also drop by the arcade to see if Richie wanted to bike home with him.

Eddie never really asked, Richie knew he was too stubborn to admit his fears. He just hung around the arcade until Richie finished whatever level he was working on, and then the pair would walk out together afterwards. It was another little thing Richie had grown to appreciate.

“I haven’t seen the other Losers all day. I just kind of came down here to get away from my house for a little bit,” Richie said, turning the page.

From his peripherals he could see Eddie nodding, “How long have you been here?”

Richie shrugged, trying to focus on the text box he’d read for the fifth time now, “An hour, maybe? Two?”

“That’s more than ten minutes, Trashmouth.”

Richie heard the teasing in his voice, he could practically _see_ the glint of mischief in Eddie’s big eyes. With a dramatic sigh, he let the comic fall into his lap, and finally glanced up at the boy before him.

“Eddie Spaghetti, did you really come all the way out here just to interrupt my reading? Or was it to hog up the hammock?” Richie grinned, “Or maybe it’s because you wanted a cuddle? I know your mom did after the night we h-”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie muttered as pushed himself off the pillar.

Richie didn’t even have time to give a retort before Eddie was climbing into the hammock with him.

The first time Eddie did that, it had been a lot of shuffling and kicking and hanging limbs. The action was born from a petty fight about how much time they were each promised on the worn swing. It was a stupid thing to bicker about, and it was entirely too small to comfortably hold the both of them. But conceding meant losing – _and they both hated losing._

Now though, after all the practice they’d had, Eddie was careful. He tucked himself into the opposite side of the hammock and let his feet hang over the edges. His casted arm came up to rest across his stomach and the other fell loosely in his lap. Eddie let the bundled fabric of the hammock’s end pillow his head.

Richie’s knees were pulled close to his chest and his feet were slightly tucked beneath Eddie’s thighs. He rolled his eyes fondly at the smaller boy and offered him an amused grin, “You’re such a pain in the ass, you know that Eds?”

Eddie gave him a bright smile in response, “Isn’t that my line?”

Richie snorted, then went back to reading. (It was the latest edition of Wolverine and that clown motherfucker had kept him from reading _all month_.)

The next hour or so passed in a breeze. Richie continued to flick through the pages of his comic while the radio kept on playing the same, soft pop songs. At some point, he had placed a hand on Eddie’s ankle and began to absentmindedly trace shapes on the skin there. Eddie was tapping the beats of each song on Richie’s calf with his fingers and gently nodding his head to the tempo. He kept humming along to whatever tunes drifted from the stereo, only ever opening his mouth to quietly sing along with the choruses he knew.

Richie was so _warm,_ and it wasn’t because of the Derry heat.

He could feel it all in his chest – the familiarity of the situation, the unconditional affection.

They were touching in more places than he could count on one hand. Neither of them had spoken within the past hour, but the silence held no tension. They were just… _there_ , enjoying each other’s presence.

The whole thing was so grossly domestic that it was almost overwhelming. _Almost._

It’s just that, Richie Tozier never thought that he was due any of this – he didn’t think he deserved it…

That was a spiral he didn’t want to delve into, though. Richie didn’t want to ruin a good moment. Everything was too comfortable and quiet for his ugly, chaotic thoughts.

He looked up from his comic to glance at Eddie, whose eyes had fluttered shut and mouth was slightly open. He seemed to be dozing off. Some song by The Cure was playing in the background, Richie thought it might be called _Lovesong._

_Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again._

Richie’s gaze on the other boy lingered and he felt something bubbling within him. It was exciting and terrifying and still so incredibly _warm._ Looking at Eddie made his heart swell.

_Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am whole again._

Richie didn’t think he’d be able to stop it – didn’t think he _wanted_ to stop this fizzy feeling from spilling out of him. 

_Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am fun again._

He opened his mouth and readied himself for the words that were about to fall from his lips. The song went on even as he nudged Eddie with his foot and called his name.

“Eds-”

Before Richie could say anything else though, the door to the clubhouse flew open and Beverly came bounding down the ladder. Her wild red hair caught in the sunlight, and her pretty pink overalls stood stark in contrast to the dark wood.

Richie’s mouth snapped shut, and the feeling began to simmer.

“Hey guys!” She smiled, plopping herself into a beanbag beside the hammock.

“Hey Bev,” Eddie greeted, sending a wave her way.

Richie only nodded at her and offered what he hoped was the same bright smile she had given them.

After a moment, Eddie turned back to him and gently shook Richie’s leg with his hand, “What were you gonna say earlier?”

_Whatever words I say, I will always love you._

Richie shook his head, “Nothing.”

**iii.**

Richie Tozier hated Christmas.

It was something he didn’t care for at age five, and something he felt even stronger about at age fifteen.

There just wasn’t much to love about a holiday he didn’t really celebrate. Richie’s family never believed in the Holy Spirit or Saint Nick. They never decorated the house or stuffed stockings with presents. They never even sang cheesy Christmas songs or made warm chocolatey drinks. Most years, Richie’s parents weren’t even _around_ during the ol’ Yuletide season.

They were always _away_ – on work sponsored trips, or friend vacations, or festive cruises. Always leaving their lives behind a shut door that begged to be opened. Always _going, going, gone…_

Richie was always _there_ – in an empty house on Christmas morning. Forever stuck in Derry, _fucking_ Maine.

Don’t get him wrong, there were still holiday-related things that Richie tended to enjoy.

He liked the magic of it all – appreciated how the entire month of December left people with soft smiles and gentle eyes. He liked the bustle of crowds as they passed from store to store. Richie especially liked watching people light up as they tore through cheap wrapping paper to get to a gift that came from the heart.

Richie hated Christmas…

…but he had a lot of Christmas traditions.

_Sledding with Bill after the first snowfall in December. Exchanging gifts in the clubhouse even when it was freezing out. Drinking warm cider out of tacky mugs with Stan on Christmas Eve._

And while Richie had come to love all of these pre-Christmas practices, none of them meant nearly as much to him as the one he shared with Eddie.

It was something they’d established over the years, a steady foundation for them to stand on. Whether it was snowing out, or the roads were slick, or the sky was dark, Richie would _always_ work his way through Eddie’s window on Christmas Eve. Then, when the clock struck twelve, the pair would exchange gifts in the quiet of Eddie’s room.

Every year promised a silly mix of hushed whispers and soft ‘thank you’s’ muttered in the dark. Every year promised goofy smiles and long hugs that lasted until they fell asleep in Eddie’s too-small bed. Every year promised more _love_ and newfound affection for Richie to bask in.

It’s what he had been waiting all year for. It was where he was heading then.

Stan had kept him over for longer than he anticipated. Every time Richie said he needed to leave, Stan would shove another cup of apple cider in his hands and pull him back into his living room to play a different board-game.

“It’s Christmas Eve asshole, don’t you want to spend the holidays with your friend?” Stan had questioned, tone somehow joking _and_ accusatory all at once.

“You don’t even celebrate Christmas,” Richie had replied, exasperated and a bit confused at his insistence for him to stay, “you’re Jewish!”

They continued with that back and forth until the sun began to fall and the only things left to guide Richie home were the streetlamps. He thanked Stan for the cider, slipped into his jacket, and rushed home so that he could grab Eddie’s present. He had a tradition to maintain after all – a promise to keep.

When Richie kicked open his front door nothing immediately seemed out of the ordinary. There was no light on in the kitchen, or chatter coming from the tv, or music playing on the radio. The house was still and quiet, save for the occasional hum of a passing car.

It wasn’t until Richie clambered up the stairs to get to his room had he realized something was off.

His door was shut, which was normal – but the light that spilled into the hallway from the crack beneath it was not.

For a moment, Richie saw a flash of the summer of 89’. He saw a clown with sharpened teeth and crazed eyes. He saw a rotting house and a well that left them wading through shitty water. He saw a bunch of fucked up kids trying to pick up the pieces after everything they’d been through.

Richie tried to shake that feeling, that all-consuming fear, the closer he got to his room. Pennywise was gone. The only thing he had to be worried about now was a possible break in.

Richie didn’t have a plan or a weapon to fight with, but he did have the stupid bravery of a fifteen-year-old who’d once beat up a weird, demon clown.

This is exactly why he was able to throw open his door with enough force to have it slam against the wall, before shouting, “Who the _fuck_ is in here?”

All the anger and panic that had slowly been building in Richie’s system slowly fizzled out of him, though, when he took in the state of his room.

It was all so bright – a pretty mesh of clashing colors that enveloped the space in a warm glow. Twinkle lights hung from every wall and the smell of cinnamon lingered in his nose. Richie’s glasses kept catching on the glare from the colorful bulbs that draped the small Christmas tree tucked into the corner of his room. It was decorated with popcorn string and candy canes and little glass ornaments.

Just for a second, Richie felt a pang in his chest – a white ugly strike of longing.

_You can’t miss something you’ve never had,_ he thought.

But that couldn’t be true. The ache in his bones from a childhood that never was, seemed like a good enough testament to that.

Before Richie could fall further into that pit of thoughts, there was a soft knocking on his window. It was gentle, but insistent – familiar. It took Richie a whole of two seconds before he recognized the shadow behind the glass as Eddie’s.

With weak knees and shaky hands, Richie crossed to the other side of the room and threw open his window.

“Eddie?”

“Sorry I’m late,” Eddie muttered as he shoved his way into the room. “I had to make sure my mom wouldn’t notice that I was gone. Also, climbing up a drainpipe is way harder than climbing a tree, so don’t expect this next year.” 

Eddie closed the window behind him and shrugged off his jacket before he flopped back onto Richie’s bed. His eyes fluttered shut and he huffed out a soft sigh.

Richie stuck to his spot by the window, unsure of what to say or do. He’d just cycled through so much panic and fear and want that he didn’t quite know which emotion to land on.

Eddie lifted his head from Richie’s pillow when he realized that Richie hadn’t fallen into place beside him. His eyebrows were drawn together in a question and he had a small pout on his lips. If Richie weren’t so shocked he might have shaken himself from his stupor, reached out to pinch Eddie’s cheeks, and called him _cute, cute, cute._

“Rich?” he asked, voice laced with concern, “you alright?”

Richie shook his head, but he wasn’t even sure if that was his answer.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie questioned as he pushed himself up from his spot on the bed.

“I just-” he still couldn’t seem to form the right words, so he latched onto whatever came to mind, “did you do all this?”

Eddie glanced around the room briefly before turning his attention back to Richie. There was a shy smile playing on his lips and a slight flush on his face. He nodded.

“It wasn’t all me,” Eddie explained, “the other Losers helped me with some of the decorations. The tree was from Ben and the lights were from Mike. Bev gave me the candle and Bill gave me the ornaments. Stan’s job was to keep you over while I got everything set up.”

“How did you even get into the house?” Richie asked, still dumbfounded.

“You keep a spare key under the doormat,” Eddie shrugged.

“What was the point of climbing up the drainpipe then?” Richie regained enough composure to move from his spot by the window to sit beside Eddie on the bed. He was just about to fall back into the warm duvet before he realized something else. “Wait, why did you leave in the first place? How come you didn’t just hang out here until I came back?”

“I told you, I had to make sure my mom wouldn’t notice me missing in the morning,” Eddie said as he shuffled around trying to make more room for Richie. “And to answer your first question, I figured the whole window thing was just tradition. It’d be bad luck to break it after all these years.”

The two were pressed up against the wall, facing each other. All Richie could think about was how Eddie looked engulfed in the glow of the Christmas lights. He was all _red, yellow, blue._ The sight of it left him aching.

“Do you like it?” Eddie asked, a bit sheepish.

“Like it?” Richie muttered, voice small and thoughtful. He caught Eddie’s gaze and as earnestly as he could manage, whispered, “I _love_ it. But, why-”

“Because I _know_ you,” Eddie huffed out in a chuckle. “You’ll swear up and down that you hate Christmas and everything about it, but I know you _,_ Richie. You stare at the decorations in town way longer than the rest of us. You get summer jobs to save up for our gifts. You hum along to all the cheesy Christmas songs even though you insist that you don’t.”

Eddie paused to send Richie a small smile, “ _I know you._ I guess I just wanted to give you a little more this year. You deserve it.”

Richie had never been good at this – at responding to sincerity with the feelings that swarmed inside his head and heart. He was good at _pretending._ He was good at faking a smile and making a lewd joke to divert the attention. He was good at hiding behind a comedic mask.

But Eddie deserved better than a half-assed joke. He deserved more than a lie.

Richie didn’t try to contain anything when he looked at Eddie. His eyes were wide and bright and full of adoration. A grin, big and dopey broke out across his face. His cheeks were tinted pink and the flush was warm on his face.

Richie was just about to tackle Eddie in a giant hug when the smaller boy’s watch started to beep.

Eddie must have sensed him gearing up to do something because before Richie could move, he held out a hand and said, “Wait, you can thank me later. It’s midnight!”

Richie grinned mischievously, “And how do you know that I was going to thank you?”

“C’mon, Rich,” Eddie rolled his eyes as he pulled Richie from the bed, “I put our presents underneath the tree already. Do you want to keep being an ass or can we open our gifts?”

“How’d you know where I stashed yours?” Richie asked, ignoring Eddie’s comment.

“What do you mean stashed?”

“It was in a top-secret hiding spot!”

“It was literally on your bed, I’m surprised it was even wrapped,” Eddie deadpanned.

Richie let out an indignant scoff, but it didn’t hold any true offense.

Even though the size of the room allowed for more space between the two, Richie and Eddie remained huddled in the corner. They kept their gifts in their laps while they settled onto the floor, sitting crisscross in front of each other. Their hands brushed and their knees knocked, and it all felt very reminiscent of the Christmases they’d shared before. Comfortable. _Close…_

But the familiarity was welcome.

Richie was nervous – all strung out and twitchy. He’d spent weeks trying to figure out what to get his little fireball of a friend. He clutched the small bundle of gifts in his lap and prayed that he’d made the right choice.

Eddie _loved_ music. He liked mindlessly listening to it on Bill’s old stereo in the clubhouse. He stole Richie’s Walkman whenever they were in his room studying or biking home from school. One time he’d even caught Eddie swaying along to the record player his mom kept in the kitchen for when she washed the dishes.

With that in mind, Richie decided to use all the rest of his Christmas savings to buy Eddie a Walkman, headphones, and some empty cassettes that he’d made into mixtapes. They were all a playlist of his favorites – songs that he’d seen the smaller boy dance around to or heard him sing along with. Some of them were Richie’s favorites, too, songs that he knew Eddie liked because of how often he borrowed his Walkman. It was a nice little show of personality – something tangible to show where their lives bled together.

Richie had also gotten Eddie a new watch. A nice one with a leather strap and a Spider-Man comic-cover inlay. He made sure it had the same features as the old one and that it was the right fit for Eddie’s little wrist.

Originally, he’d intended on filling in Eddie’s comic book collection, but the teen’s love for Spider-Man made sure he never missed an issue.

Richie thought it was funny how much Eddie admired Spider-Man. He went on and on about how he loved that Peter Parker was just a kid from Queens who fought for what he believed in. He always said that he wanted to be just like Peter Parker – _brave_ for the sake of those he cared about.

Richie thought Eddie’s admiration was funny because bravery was something he’d always had. (Even before the summer of 89’.)

Richie shook his head briefly, as if to shake away the thought.

He turned his attention back to Eddie and before he could lose his nerve, Richie stuck out the gifts for him to take, “Here, you go first.” 

Eddie took the presents from his hands and immediately got to tearing through the poorly wrapped items. Richie figured that putting effort into making them more presentable was just a waste of time, his best friend always ripped through the decorative paper without any care. It was one of the many chaotic aspects of Eddie’s otherwise neat personality.

There was a beat of silence when all the paper had been torn from the gifts. Richie felt the nerves build in his stomach as he waited for a reaction.

Eddie stared at the Walkman and headphones in awe, “Rich, you know I can’t-”

“I know your mom doesn’t let you have one because they’ll ‘ruin your hearing’ or whatever,” Richie said, reaching for something he’d tucked beneath his bed, “but I hollowed out these books for you to hide them in.”

Eddie’s eyes widened and the expression on his face was something that Richie couldn’t pin. The surprise was obvious, but there was something softer tugging at his features.

“I made sure everything was the same as mine because I know you’re a picky fucker.”

“Richie-”

“And I also know you’ve got a thing about your watches, so I made sure its got all the same stuff as the one you have now.”

“Rich-”

“Oh! And if it doesn’t fit I can always take it back and trade it in for a better band-”

“Jesus Christ, _Richie_!” Eddie exclaimed, exasperated.

“What?” Richie faltered.

“I love it,” Eddie smiled, big and bright and just for him, “thank you.”

Before Richie could even think of how to respond, Eddie was already excitedly shoving gifts into his hands, “Okay, come on. Open mine!”

Richie wasn’t necessarily careful when he unwrapped gifts, but he did like to take his time. He liked to savor the feeling of excitement and suspense that came with unveiling a present. He let himself slowly tear through the red gift wrap of each item and made sure not to ruin the tags that had ‘ _For Richie’_ scribbled across them.

When all the gift-wrap was finally discarded, Richie stared fondly at what was left in its absence.

A Nirvana t-shirt, with soft fabric and a simple design printed across the chest. (They were a band that he’d slowly grown to love and of course Eddie had known this since they constantly shared music.)

Black studs for the ears that Richie had recently gotten pierced. (Eddie swore up and down that he hated them because he thought they’d become infected, but he’d also been the first person to stick up for Richie whenever someone gave him shit about them.)

And for the final gift, a star – small and gold with a swirl of metal at one end.

Richie glanced up at Eddie and quirked a brow in question.

“So you can put it on the tree,” he explained, “I wanted you to do it.”

Richie let out a quiet chuckle before he kneeled over to place the star atop the tree. A thought crossed his mind, though, and he looked back at Eddie, “Do it with me, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that,” the other boy chided, but he still reached over to grab the star with Richie.

Their fingers brushed as they carefully set the star on the top branch and when they leaned back to admire their work, their shoulders pressed together. The two glanced at each other with soft gazes and Richie knew that he couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“Eddie, I need to tell you something.”

Eddie didn’t speak, just looked to him with an expectant grin.

Richie brought up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, “Well, okay, I just wanted to tell you that I-”

“Wait! Richie, wait, oh my god!” Eddie practically shouted as he jumped to his feet. He took hold of Richie’s hand and pulled him towards the window.

“It’s snowing!” Eddie squealed in excitement.

Richie gazed out the window and realized that it was. Little flecks of white came trickling down from the grey overcast sky. None of it had packed to the ground or stuck to the plants yet, but the downpour was thick enough to know that it would. The surrounding air by the window grew colder.

“It’s so pretty,” Eddie muttered in disbelief, “Ma never lets me out when it snows, and she keeps me away from the windows too, so I won’t get sick. I don’t really get to see it.”

Richie didn’t look away from the window, but he felt something sad tug at his heart.

“We can get up early to play in it tomorrow before you go,” Richie offered, “I know you’ve got a spare set of clothes around here somewhere. We’ll bundle you up real good too so that Mrs. K doesn’t notice when you get home.”

Another silence settled over them and for a moment, Richie was sure that Eddie was going to protest the idea.

Instead though, the younger boy placed his hand on Richie’s shoulder and tugged him down to place a featherlight kiss on his cheek, “That sounds great, Rich. Merry Christmas.”

Despite the chill in the air and the trail of goosebumps on his arms, Richie _melted._

Eddie took hold of his hand again, apparently feeling bold, and leaned his head on Richie’s shoulder.

“I hope you got what you wanted for Christmas, too,” Eddie said, voice not a whisper, but just as gentle.

Richie briefly looked down at Eddie and smiled.

“ _Yeah_.”

And it’s the closest to “I love you” that he’s ever gotten.

**iv.**

Richie Tozier was seventeen when he got his first car.

He had bought it for a ridiculously low price off of some shady guy who lived a few blocks down from him. It was an old, red Corolla – fully equipped with peeling paint, a busted door lock, and a broken defroster. The brakes would squeal when he pressed on them too suddenly, and the steering wheel was hard to maneuver on sharper turns. Some days the car wouldn’t even _start._

Richie _loved_ it.

He wasn’t usually sentimental, but he liked that he paid for it by himself. There was something nice in knowing that he could hold his own. Plus, it had character. Maybe the car looked like it had been through the wringer, but so had he. And for that, he loved it.

Eddie _did not_.

When Richie showed up at his door with a new set of keys and playful glint in his eyes, Eddie had been doubtful, but still curious. He got as far as the driveway before he saw the car, shook his head, and started walking back.

“Wait, Eds! Where’re you going? C’mon,” Richie had said, grabbing at Eddie’s hand to pull him back towards the road.

“That thing is a death trap, Rich!” Eddie had exclaimed. “I’m not going anywhere with you in _that_.”

He had, though. All Richie had to do to coax him into the car was put on a pouty face and promise that he’d drive slow before Eddie was clambering into the passenger seat with a frown.

He grumbled and scowled and cursed every time the car made a noise or the heat wouldn’t kick up. He complained about the smell of cigarettes that clung to the seats and the questionably stained upholstery. He even made a comment about the radio signal being bad.

Eddie had still gotten into the car, though. He sat in that busted up thing with Richie until the skies were dark and the digital clock in the dash read “1:00 a.m.” in red, blocky letters.

They’d driven out of town that day, straight past the Derry limits. Richie had watched in awe as their hometown grew smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror. The further they got, the more insignificant it all seemed – no more clown, no more parents, no more pain.

It was the first taste of freedom he’d ever had.

“Chee,” Eddie had muttered on the drive back, “are we ever gonna make it out of Derry?”

The sky was inky, a giant blur of blacks and blues and grays. It was hard to tell where the road began and the sky ended from behind the dash. The only things left to guide them home were Richie’s too-dim headlights and Derry’s far off skyline. Despite all the open space before them, that question somehow felt bigger, _vaster_.

Richie had startled at the nickname, at the way Eddie said it, slow and sad and _so_ sincere. He only ever muttered it in the dark – in the quiet of one of their rooms, or the privacy of the empty clubhouse. Sometimes he would whisper it when they were out and the moment was soft, or when Eddie was sleepy and wanted Richie’s attention. It usually made him feel sickly sweet, like someone had just filled him up with sugar and honey.

In that moment, though, it had just felt out of place. The nickname and the question and the sound of his voice had all felt _wrong_.

Richie thought that the answer to his question was obvious. Because, _duh._ He’d wanted to leave Maine since he was thirteen. He figured that as soon as he could get ahold of a shitty van and a driver’s license, he’d pack all of the Loser’s into the back and take them as far as the road and their money would allow.

He’d planned his future with all of them, but Eddie was the one person he knew he couldn’t leave Derry without.

Something soft tugged at his stomach at the thought of Eddie planning his future with Richie in it, too.

Richie had glanced over at him, but he could hardly make out his features in the dark. His face was set forward and his eyes were fixed on the road. If Richie didn’t have to go back to paying attention to what was in front of him, he could have almost imagined the scrunch of his nose and the worry lines on his forehead.

“Of course we are, Eds. I don’t care where the fuck we go, I’m not leaving you here,” Richie had said – voice gentle, but sure. “We can go anywhere you want. I don’t care.”

“Even New York?” Eddie had asked, incredulous.

Richie hated the cold, Eddie knew as much. But he didn’t know how much more Richie loved him than he cared about the fucking weather. He’d follow him anywhere.

“Even New York.”

His hand, which had once been resting limply on the gear shift, was scooped up by Eddie. He had laced their fingers together and held Richie’s hand in his lap.

It had stayed that way until they pulled up to Eddie’s house. (His mom had been away that weekend for a family thing, so no one was there to wait up for him.) They’d sat in Eddie’s driveway for a few moments of comfortable silence before Eddie thanked Richie for the drive and went back inside.

After that day, driving became a normal thing for them.

Richie got his license the summer before junior year, so the pair drove to school together every morning.

Each day promised something different, a special brand of chaos for each drive over. Some mornings consisted of loud music and smiley faces and warm eggo waffles that Richie popped in the toaster for them. Other days held nothing but stiff silences and grouchy expressions due to the lack of sleep from the night before. 

Richie had grown to love their routine. It was something special, something else that was just for them.

Richie was at Eddie’s house then, parked beside the curb while the other boy finished locking up the house. He looked a bit disheveled as he walked towards the car – all wavy haired and tired eyed. Eddie wasn’t even wearing his usual polo-jean combo, he’d instead opted for one of Richie’s old sweatshirts and a pair of red running shorts.

When Eddie fell into the passenger seat without saying a word, Richie knew exactly what type of morning it was.

Eddie wasn’t upset, but he would need a bit of time to warm up before he could get into a conversation. Richie just popped in a Nirvana CD, lowered the volume, and drove off as he waited for him to speak first.

They were halfway to school when Eddie finally opened his mouth to say something.

“Did you finish the essay for Ms. Williams?” he asked, quietly.

Richie shook his head, “I tried. I mean, I’m halfway done at least. I was busy last night though.”

Eddie glanced up at him, “Doing what?”

“Oh, you know,” Richie said with a crooked grin on his face, “fucking your-”

Eddie shoved at his shoulder before he could finish what he was saying.

“God you’re such an asshole,” Eddie muttered, but there was a hint of amusement in the way he said it.

Richie was going to respond, something just as annoying as before, but Eddie’s panicked voice cut his thoughts short.

“Richie, watch out!” he shouted, pointing out something in Richie’s peripherals.

Richie caught a brief glimpse of silver before he pressed hard on the brakes. He threw his hand over Eddie’s chest and prayed that they’d slowed down enough for the other car to only clip them. The only thing left to do was wait.

Richie heard the impact before he felt it. There was the screech of tires on the asphalt and the crunching of metal from where they had hit his bumper. There was the loud bang that followed the airbags deploying, and the crack of his nose as it hit his face. There was Eddie’s yelp as they swerved into the other lane.

And then, there was complete silence.

Richie could barely make out anything over the ringing in his ears. He sat there, stunned at the whole situation, vaguely aware of the sting in his nose and the ache in his chest. He felt hands tugging at his arm and gunpowder from the airbags in his eyes.

It took him a few moments before he registered that the hands grabbing at him belonged to Eddie and that he was also the one calling his name.

“Rich. _Richie_ , hey, look at me. Are you okay?” he questioned.

Eddie’s open palms were warm on his face and his grip was grounding. Richie turned to face the other boy, still a bit dazed. Eddie let out a soft gasp when he saw him and reached into the backseat for the sweater he left there last week.

“ _Chee_ ,” he whispered, pressing the cotton fabric to his bleeding nose, “fuck, I think your nose is broken.”

Richie could smell copper and smoke and the detergent from Eddie’s sweater. He hadn’t realized that he was bleeding before, but the more coherent he became the more he remembered how hard the airbag had actually hit him. He hissed when Eddie forced his head forward and pressed the fabric harder against his nose.

“I know, baby, I know,” Eddie cooed, “I think someone already called 911 so the ambulance should be here soon.”

Richie hummed in affirmation. His ears were still buzzing and his head still felt as though it’d been stuffed with cotton, but at least now he had a better grasp on what was going on.

Richie tried to focus on Eddie’s worried face. His eyebrows were pinched in concern and his eyes were red from the irritation of the gunpowder. He didn’t look like he’d been hurt in the crash, but that did nothing to ease Richie’s nerves.

“Eds?” he called, voice rough and muffled by the sweater.

“Yeah?”

“You’re okay, right?” he asked, “You’re not hurt are you?”

Eddie shook his head and looked at Richie as if he were baffled by the question, “No Rich, I’m okay. Promise.”

Richie nodded, but winced at the movement. He thought about something, then groaned when he realized what this accident meant.

“What? Richie, what’s wrong? Does something else hurt?” Eddie rambled, letting his eyes dart over Richie’s form.

“No,” Richie said.

“Then what-”

“Your mom is going to fucking kill me,” he grumbled.

Eddie let out a relieved sigh and offered him a soft smile, “We’ll worry about that later.”

Richie’s eyelids fluttered a bit before he glanced up at Eddie, “Do you think if we have make-up sex it’ll lessen the blow?”

“Beep-beep, asshole,” Eddie choked out in a wet chuckle. His eyes were watery and it seemed as if the reality of the situation was finally catching up to him.

The crash wasn’t severe, by any standards, but it _could have_ been. If Richie hadn’t pressed on the brakes as fast as he had, or if he hadn’t kept his grip on the steering wheel as firm, this whole thing might have ended up completely different. They could have been t-boned and flipped over. _Richie could have died._

The thought of him dying before he had the chance to tell Eddie how he felt was terrifying.

Richie figured, in his muddled-up mind, that it was better late than never.

“Eddie,” he said, voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Eddie turned his attention to him, and for a brief moment, Richie thought that _this was it_. He thought that after years of wanting and waiting, he’d finally be able to blurt out his feelings to the boy he loved.

Richie was a fool for thinking that though, because before he could even formulate the right words to say, the sound of sirens rang throughout the neighborhood and Eddie went back to looking out the window.

Eddie placed Richie’s hands over the bloodied sweater and helped him curl his fingers around the fabric.

“Hold this here while I go let the paramedics know what’s going on,” he instructed, turning away from Richie.

“Wait, but, Eddie-” Richie tried to call for him.

Eddie leaned over the console and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Richie’s forehead, “I’ll be right back, Chee. It’s okay, I promise.”

Eddie shut the door on Richie before he could get another word out – leaving him with a broken nose and a bleeding heart.

**v.**

It was funny, really – how small everything seemed from where Richie stood.

When he was younger, everything was so big and far away. There was always a shirt that hung too loose or a shelf he couldn’t reach or an empty space in a conversation that he couldn’t fill. Richie always felt that the world was too much for him, that it moved and expanded and _grew_ so that he couldn’t keep up.

But now, as he stared at Eddie’s open window, everything finally felt just within his reach.

Richie was eighteen, freshly graduated and a bit tipsy from the party he’d just been at. He stumbled up the oak tree beside Eddie’s house, grasping at different branches almost by second nature. He reached the top with a few scrapes and splinters on his open palms, but Richie knew that once he was inside Eddie would take care of them.

There was a faint glow coming from inside the room and Richie could hear music blaring from Eddie’s headphones. The other boy swayed around the room, humming along to _Come on Eileen_ while he plucked clothes from his dresser and shoved them into specific cardboard boxes.

For a brief second, Richie saw a flash of this, thirty odd years from now as they unpacked their lives into a shitty apartment that Eddie would pick out.

He shook his head, trying to force away the fondness creeping onto his features.

_This isn’t yours to have_ , he thought, and it sobered him up quicker than the cool midnight air.

Richie pulled himself through the open window and leaned back against the wall, waiting to see how long it took for Eddie to notice him in the room.

He got to the second chorus of the song before Eddie turned around and startled so much that he fell back onto his bed.

“Jesus _fuck,_ Richie!” Eddie exclaimed, ripping the headset from his ears. He was all red faced and flustered from the intrusion, but he didn’t look too mad. Richie decided to push a few more buttons.

“Hey, Spaghetti!” He greeted with a playful grin.

Eddie rolled his eyes and went back to folding the shirt that he’d dropped when he saw Richie.

“What are you doing here, Rich? I thought you had a party to be at,” Eddie muttered as he placed the shirt in a box.

Richie shrugged, “I went, it was boring as hell though. Plus, I missed you.”

Eddie paused his movements. Everything was quiet save for the music coming through his Walkman. He smiled at Richie and the world tilted on its axis.

“Yeah, it has been a while since we’ve hung out, huh? Just us,” Eddie said, moving to join Richie by the window.

Richie nodded. He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He knew Eddie didn’t like it, but Richie’s shoulders were tense and his nerves were strung. He used the nice, silver lighter Bev had given him for his birthday and placed the lit cigarette between his lips. He’d done it a dozen times before, but Richie was still transfixed by the orange glow that emanated from the lit end.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Eddie frowned.

Richie stuck his head out of the open window and let the smoke curl into the sky.

In all honesty, he _didn’t_ smoke that often. But doing anything bad for your body in front of Eddie warranted an automatic, offhanded health comment.

“Oh don’t worry so much, Eds,” Richie teased, “I’ll be fine.”

“You better be,” he said, bumping Richie’s shoulder with his own, “I don’t want to get a call in New York about you dying because your lungs gave out.”

Richie soured at that – at the mention of college.

“When are you heading up there?” he asked. His voice was low and the question hung heavy in the space between them.

“Couple of days,” Eddie explained. “I signed up for a few summer courses so that way I could be out of the house sooner.”

Richie nodded. Even though Eddie had gotten better at standing up to his mom, she was still smothering – an ever-looming presence in his life. She was one of the main reasons Richie had wanted to take Eddie and run. But Eddie was brave, and he knew how to fight his own battles.

“What about you?”

Richie glanced at him and paused. Eddie’s eyes were wide and his expression was innocently curious. Richie felt something ugly twist in his gut, but he pushed the feeling aside.

He shrugged, “I’m not sure actually.”

_Liar_ , he thought, but did nothing to correct himself.

Eddie hummed in thought, “Mm, alright. Well, my mom is leaving early for some church thing tomorrow, so you can stay tonight and we can meet up with the group in the morning.”

“Sounds good,” he muttered, before turning back to look out at the sky.

Richie took a few more long drags before putting out his cigarette on the windowsill. He flicked the cigarette butt into the backyard and moved to shut the window so that the smell didn’t waft into the room. Eddie made a noise of protest, but Richie cut him off before he could complain about the possibility of starting a fire.

“Okay, c’mon,” Richie said, grabbing at Eddie’s wrist, “I didn’t come over just to watch you pack.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asked. “Why are you here then?”

He quietly dragged Eddie into the restroom and shut the door behind them.

“Well I _was_ supposed to visit your mom,” Richie joked, pulling out the first aid kit that he knew was beneath the sink. He placed it in Eddie’s hands before showing him his own cut-up palms. Eddie grimaced at the joke but went straight to pulling the splinters from Richie’s skin.

“And now?” he asked.

Richie grinned, “Now that I know she’s busy, though, I figured I’d spend time with you.”

“You’re such a dick,” Eddie chuckled. “Are you ever going to stop making those jokes?” 

Richie shook his head, “Never.”

“Not even when we’re all old and wrinkly and gray?”

“Not even then.”

They settled into a comfortable silence after that. Eddie’s head was downturned to focus on the cuts he was cleaning, but Richie could see the soft smile tugging at his lips. He felt a rush of warmth spread across his cheeks and let his own head duck down to avoid Eddie from seeing.

When he finished plucking all the splinters and bandaging all the scrapes, Eddie led Richie back to his bedroom. They were both careful not to wake his mom who was passed out a few rooms over. Richie gently pulled the door closed and turned back to Eddie.

“Well,” he said, “let’s do something, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie quirked a brow at him, “Like what?”

Richie paused to think of something for them to do before he realized that there was still music pouring through Eddie’s headphones. He remembered the pair of earbuds he had stashed in his other pocket and came up with an idea.

Richie swiped the Walkman from Eddie’s bed and replaced those headphones with his own.

“Wanna dance?” he asked, holding out an earbud for Eddie to take.

Eddie looked up at him with a glint of mischief in his eyes. He snatched the earbud from Richie’s hand and placed it in his ear. Eddie grabbed Richie’s hand and tugged him a bit closer.

“Try not to step on my toes,” he teased.

“Psh,” Richie scoffed, “I’m going to _wow_ you with my dance moves.”

Eddie grinned and wrapped his arms around Richie’s shoulders, “Alright then. Prove it, Trashmouth.”

The melody that started filling in through their shared headphones was sweet – an old song with an even older sentiment. Richie had always been a bit of a romantic, but this tune was different. It meant more to him somehow.

“This song reminds me of you,” Richie muttered, hoping that Eddie wouldn’t hear it over the music.

Eddie craned his neck to catch Richie’s eyes, “Why’s that?”

Richie thought about all the feelings he got when he looked at Eddie. He thought about how what was once innocent and ooey-gooey, was now something brighter – something that burned at every inch of his skin. Richie thought about how, when he looked at Eddie, he saw a together-ever-after.

_Darling, darling, stand by me._

It was a truth he didn’t know how to speak. So instead, Richie said, “I remember hearing you sing along to it this one time.”

“What?” Eddie asked, surprised, and maybe a bit embarrassed. “When?”

“A while ago,” Richie explained, “you had spent the night and my parents had already left for work. I don’t remember much, but I remember coming downstairs while you were making breakfast. My mom’s old Ben E. King vinyl was playing and you were humming along to this song.”

Eddie thought it over for a moment, and Richie saw the flash of recognition that passed over his face.

“God, Rich,” Eddie mused. “That _was_ a while ago. How do you even remember that?”

“It was nice,” Richie replied simply.

The beginnings of a smile began to work their way onto Eddie’s face.

“It was also pretty hard to forget how mortified you were when you realized that I heard you.”

Eddie groaned and let his head fall forward into Richie’s shoulder, “Can’t you ever let the moment be?”

“And ruin my reputation?” Richie questioned, tucking his face into Eddie’s hair. “Never.” 

They stayed like that – swaying in place – until the end of the song.

When it finished, and the opening drum solo for _Just Like Heaven_ began to play, Richie pulled away from Eddie’s embrace to burst into a silly bout of dancing.

Richie was all loose-limbed and lanky, but his movements were never too awkward or stiff. They _were_ , however, dumb enough to send Eddie into a fit of giggles. His cheeks flushed this nice shade of pink and his head was thrown back in laughter. Richie couldn’t pull too far away due to the constriction of wires connecting them, so he got to see Eddie’s expression up close.

Eddie wiped at his eyes and chuckled, “Are those the ‘ _moves_ ’ you promised to wow me with?”

Richie beamed at him, “You betcha!”

Eddie shook his head and pulled Richie back into his space. He mimicked his wild, flailing dance moves and softly sang along with The Cure. He looked so uncontained – like someone had finally pulled the lid off the jar he seemed trapped in.

Richie was incredulous at the whole thing. Eddie just looked so _happy_. The sight of it all made his heart swell.

At some point, Eddie took a step too quick for Richie to match and the pair ended up stumbling backwards onto the bed. They laid there for a moment in a tangled mess of limbs and headphone cords. Richie broke into a fit of laughter that Eddie tried to stifle by placing his hands over Richie’s mouth.

“Rich!” Eddie whispered, biting back his own giggles, “You gotta be quiet otherwise you’ll wake up my mom!”

Richie could only nod in response. He didn’t want to risk another outburst that would send them both into hysterics.

It took him a few seconds to finally compose himself, but Richie eventually got his laughter under control. When Eddie deemed him calm enough to release his hold on Richie, he drew his hand back and placed it over Richie’s heart.

They didn’t make much of an attempt to separate themselves from each other. Richie had an arm flung over Eddie’s middle and his chin rested atop Eddie’s head. Their legs were limply hanging off the edge of his twin sized mattress. It reminded Richie of all the times they’d fallen into the hammock like this – wrapped up in something too small to hold the both of them. They managed, though.

They always did.

Richie had been so consumed with the thought, that he almost missed the comment Eddie made about the following song.

“This song reminds me of _you_ ,” Eddie had said.

“Oh?”

Eddie hummed and nodded. Richie hadn’t paid much attention to the song that came up after _Just Like Heaven,_ but now that he was focused on what was playing, he easily recognized the somber tune.

_Let’s dance in style, let’s dance for a while…_

“How come it reminds you of me?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Eddie muttered. Then, after a pause, “I think the sound of it just _feels_ like you. I know that sounds kind of stupid, but it’s free and nostalgic and a little bit sad. I think of you whenever it plays.”

Richie didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t speak at all. Eddie took that as his cue to continue.

“I also think it’s because I want us to stay young. I mean, even if _I_ don’t get to, I want _you_ to.”

Richie looked down at him and it felt like his face had broken open. His eyes watered and he could feel his bottom lip tremble. Richie felt like his chest was finally cracking open to reveal a scared, beating heart.

He hoped that Eddie couldn’t feel the quick pulsation of it beneath his warm, open palm.

_Forever young, I wanna be forever young._

“I don’t want to go,” Richie admitted with a sigh.

Eddie looked up at him with pinched brows and curious eyes, “What do you mean?”

“To college.”

Eddie’s expression fell and Richie wished he hadn’t mentioned it, but they needed to face what was coming for them. Even if an evil space-clown couldn’t pull them apart, distance and time certainly could.

“I just wish we didn’t all have to be so far away from each other,” Eddie said, gazing at Richie through his thick lashes.

“Yeah, I’ve wanted to get out of this fucking town since we were kids but I never wanted to do it without…”

_Without you_ , he thought.

And even if he hadn’t said it, Eddie must have understood because he nodded and murmured a quiet ‘I know’ in response.

Richie didn’t know how to lose this. He didn’t know how to let go of this piece of his life. It wasn’t just his childhood, it was his adolescence – everything that shaped him into the person he was.

Sneaking through windows, sharing Christmases, taking long car rides together in the summer.

He didn’t know how to give that up.

“We’ll be okay,” Eddie reassured. He must have sensed Richie winding up at his own intrusive thoughts. He lifted his hand from Richie’s chest and ran his fingers along his side.

“How do you know?” Richie questioned.

“I just do,” he said sincerely. “It’s the Losers. It’s you and me. We’ll always be okay.”

_Youth is like diamonds in the sun, and diamonds are forever._

Richie should tell him that he’s leaving in the morning. He should tell Eddie that he was heading to California to settle something with the apartment he rented out there. He _should_ give him the goodbye he deserved.

But Richie had always been a coward – a scared little boy.

He remained silent and let the song fade out.

Eddie released a small yawn and pushed himself up to reach over and turn off his bedside lamp. The room was engulfed in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight that broke through the evening clouds. The light caught on the curve of Eddie’s nose and the soft pink of his lips.

God, he loved him _so_ much.

Richie tugged the cotton duvet over himself and Eddie, then tucked his free arm beneath his head. He pulled out their earbuds and lightly tossed the Walkman onto the floor. Eddie’s breaths started to even out, but before he could fall asleep, he pulled the glasses from Richie’s face and placed them beneath the pillow at the head of his bed.

“Go to sleep, Chee,” he whispered, “everything will work itself out.”

Richie felt like he was thirteen again – stupid and small and ridiculously love struck.

He fell asleep with that thought.

When he woke up the next morning, the house was quiet – _still._ Richie knew it was early because the sun hadn’t come up yet and he could barely hear the hum of traffic in the distance. Eddie was still asleep next to him, neatly tucked into his side.

Richie’s arm was numb and his legs felt like TV static, but he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

He needed to leave, though. He had a flight in a few hours and he still hadn’t packed his bag. Richie’s parents would be waiting to drop him off at the airport so that he didn’t have to leave his car in the parking lot while he was away. _He had to go_.

Eddie stirred when Richie moved to push himself off of the bed. The hand resting on Richie’s side tightened around his jumper and Eddie made a weak attempt at pulling him back down.

“Where’re you going?” he slurred.

Eddie was all sleep addled and sluggish. His hair stuck out at odd ends and his clothes were rumpled from the night before. Richie’s heart ached at how endearing the whole sight was. He wanted more messy mornings and shared sunrises. He _wanted, wanted, wanted._

“I have to leave, Eds,” Richie whispered, and it broke his heart.

Eddie nodded, slowly, like he understood.

“Are you going to be back when I wake up?” he asked – still foolishly hopeful like Richie knew him to be.

“Of course.”

_Liar,_ he thought. And this time they both knew it.

Richie leaned over to press a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head.

He almost said it then – that he loved him. It would have been easy since he was about to leave. Richie could have whispered it into the quiet of Eddie’s dark room and fled without fear of the consequences.

But he didn’t.

Because Richie was still eighteen and afraid of _everything_. Terrified of being left exposed. And in that moment he felt like a live wire.

Richie went to unlatch the window, but before he could, Eddie caught his wrist and pressed a quick kiss to palm of his scarred hand. It felt like a different kind of promise, one that was just for them.

After that he let Richie go. Eddie’s head fell back against the mattress and small snores escaped his lips. He watched in awe.

Richie used to think that the world was too big for him – that everything moved too fast for him to latch onto. But when he glanced at Eddie’s sleeping form, he realized just how small everything came in comparison to this moment. Things would grow and change and manifest, and none of it would matter because Richie had _this._

The universe had given him something to grasp at from the very beginning.

Holding Eddie was like holding a star that was about to go supernova. It was unpredictable and calamitous and it _hurt._ Richie was never going to let go.

He ducked out of the window then – leaving his heart in bed with the supernova boy from Derry.

He didn’t care if he never got it back.

**\+ i.**

They were going to die here.

In this musty cave that was buried so far beneath the surface that it felt like they were at the center of everything. Their final resting place would be among the sewage and rocks and crumbling, cavernous walls. They’d end up just where Richie said they would. Dead, like all those kids before them – a forgotten stain on a town that never actually cared about them.

Richie felt dizzy being back here. This house cradled a darkness that hadn’t been burned by the light in twenty-seven years and that revelation was staggering. It made him feel like he was a teenager again, all clenched fists and pinched brows. Fighting on the frontlines with the six people he’d sworn to never forget.

When Richie got to the restaurant on their first night back, he had to wait in his car a few moments before going in. He was barely latching onto old memories and he didn’t want to overwhelm himself. Everything had been so hazy, even after the phone call with Mike he could barely make out those blurry figures he’d known from his childhood.

He could remember bits and pieces. A stutter, a love for birds, a wild mane of red curls.

That’s what pulled him out of his anxious stupor – a familiar mess of red locks.

_Beverly,_ his mind supplied.

Next to her was a handsome face with warm brown eyes. They were looking down at her with a fondness Richie remembered from when they were younger.

_Ben._

There was something else in his gaze, some wanting he could vaguely recognize. It was an ache Richie knew he’d felt in his adolescence. He couldn’t recall who it was for, though.

He’d gotten out of the car then, still a bit scared and unsure, but more steady than before.

Seeing Bill and Mike for the first time since he was eighteen was a whirlwind to say the least. They both looked older, tired in a way that suggested it wasn’t from jetlag or the drive over.

For the most part they looked the same, though. Richie had to really focus on a few of their features, but beneath the broad shoulders and grey hair, he recognized Bill’s fierce eyes and Mike’s bright smile. He saw the same set look of determination they’d both carried growing up.

“Wow, look at these guys huh?”

And okay, holy shit.

Because there was _Eddie_. Eddie, who stood awkwardly beside Mike and Bill looking just as small and stern as Richie remembered him to be. Eddie, whose brown eyes were still too big for his face. Eddie, who was looking at Richie exactly like he did when they were younger – with all the fondness and hope and hesitancy in the world.

Something in Richie settled.

His whole life he’d known that something was missing. He’d spent his college years wondering why seeing an inhaler or listening to a song by The Cure sent him into a spiral. People would ask him about the scar on his hand and Richie could never explain why he’d get a flash of someone kissing his palm. Sometimes, he would dream of an old hammock and it left him feeling confused for the rest of the day at the warmth that blossomed in his chest because of it.

Richie looked at Eddie and _settled_.

Dinner passed in a blur. Richie took comfort in how they all fell back into old patterns. He and Eddie bickered, Bill and Bev teased, Ben and Mike looked on at the whole scene with thinly veiled affection. Everything felt just as it had when they were kids.

Between the laughter and the drinks they shared, the Losers almost missed Stan watching them quietly from the doorway. His hands were shoved inside his pockets and he was biting back a smile. There was some nervous energy in his eyes that they all acknowledged but overlooked at the time. Everyone had been a bit fidgety in the beginning anyways.

Richie hadn’t expected him to make it, but he was glad that he did.

At the time, Richie was relieved. He’d been grateful to have them all together again. It was like these big pieces of his life that hadn’t been there before were finally slotting themselves back into place. He’d felt _full_.

Now though, standing at the entrance of an opening in this cave, he was just scared.

Pennywise was back – uglier and more desperate than ever. He was still all drool and maniacal laughter, the only difference now was his drastic growth spurt and spindly, spider legs.

_It’s_ attention had switched between each of the Losers throughout their fight, but in that moment he was cornering Mike. Spewing some bullshit about him being a “madman.”

Yes, Mike had lied and put them all in danger, but he’d also been the only one to stay behind. He was the only one who woke up every morning with the memory of the horrors they faced when they were kids. He was the only one who hung back and searched for the cure for this _disease_ that had infested Derry since the beginning of time.

And despite not remembering Mike for the better half of three decades, Richie knew in his heart that he had to fight for him.

“Hey fuckface!” Richie shouted, tossing a large stone at Pennywise’s head.

The monster tossed Mike aside and turned to face him with an icy glare. Richie clutched at the second rock in his fist and squared his shoulders. He was ready to end this stupid fucking fight.

“You wanna play truth or dare?” He taunted. “Here’s a truth, you’re a sloppy bitch! Yeah that’s right! Let’s dance! Yippee ki-yay mother-”

And then Richie was floating.

It was strange being suspended in time. Nothing really moved or lived, everything just… _was._ Richie saw flashes of things, scenes that were from his past and what seemed to be his future. It was like watching his life through a view-master, all of it clicking by.

Richie saw Eddie – practically in his lap with his hands on Richie’s sides as he tried to shake him awake. He was beaming, rambling on and on about something Richie couldn’t quite make out. Eddie’s smile was bright and familiar. The light of it was something Richie wanted to bask in forever.

But then there was blood. Thick and warm and reeking of copper – splattered clean across his face and chest. It was all over Richie’s head and hands, seeping into the cracks of his broken lens and in between the skin around his fingernails. _So much blood,_ _too much blood._

Eddie wasn’t smiling anymore. His expression was grim, weighted with so much agony and affliction that Richie was sure he was going to throw up again. Eddie’s hands were no longer gripping at his sides but were instead feeling around at the claw that pierced through his chest.

Somewhere in the back Richie could hear screaming. Bev, maybe? He didn’t focus on it for too long.

“Richie _,_ ” Eddie whimpered.

“Eddie…”

_So much blood_ – spewing from his open mouth and staining his shirt. Richie got a wicked flashback to the summer of 89’. _Wanna play loogie?_

“ _Rich._ ”

Richie was flung back into reality at the same time that the clown wrenched Eddie away from him. He hit the ground with a sharp thud and a soft groan. His vision was blurry and his mind was still stuck on what he’d seen in the deadlights. Everything was so slow-moving.

When Richie finally started to gather his bearings, he realized that someone was hovering over him – trying to coax him from the spell he’d fallen victim to.

The whole thing was alarmingly familiar.

_Eddie above him. Eddie speaking like the spit-fire he is. Eddie smiling down at him._

“Yeah! Yeah there he is, buddy!”

Richie immediately recognized the excited tone of his voice.

“Hey! Richie, listen, I think I got him man!”

He knew exactly what was coming but his limbs still felt like lead, heavy from the deadlights’ effects _._

“I think I killed it!”

_Please,_ Richie thought, struggling to move. _Let him live. For the love of God just let him fucking live. I can’t do it without him. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t._

He wasn’t sure who he was pleading to. Richie had never really been a religious man. He figured God didn’t seem to give much of a shit about him anyways seeing as how he was back in this situation. But, in that moment, Richie didn’t care who came to his aid. He just needed someone to _listen_.

Richie watched in horror as Pennywise lifted a talon from behind them and prepared to bring it down in one swift strike. His mouth was too muddled to say anything. He finally got an arm out to shove at Eddie’s shoulder, but Richie knew he wouldn’t be quick enough to move him out of the way.

_Please_.

From somewhere out of his line of sight, Richie watched a rock fly through the air and intercept Pennywise’s attack. He took advantage of the distraction and rolled them away from their place in front of _It_. Eddie made a small noise of surprise, but Richie missed it as he was too busy figuring out who’d just saved them.

“Leave my friends the fuck alone!” Stan shouted, voice full of all the pent up rage and frustration he’d harbored since he was a child.

Richie was in awe. He called out into the dark and Stan _heard_. Of course he had, he’d always been the most observant one in the group – the best listener. Richie figured some things never changed. He was glad that this hadn’t.

“Or what, bird boy?” Pennywise asked. His voice was gruff and laced with malice, but his expression was obviously pained. Seeing him pinned against the rock structure brought Richie back to the first time they all fought It. _This isn’t real enough for you, Billy?_ I’m _not real enough for you? It was real enough for Georgie._

“Rich, holy shit,” Eddie muttered, clutching at Richie’s jacket.

Richie automatically turned his attention back to the man beneath him. Eddie looked up at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. There was no blood seeping through his chapped lips and his yellow shirt wasn’t a growing crimson stain. Eddie’s breathing was labored and loud and Richie had never been more relieved to see the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. _He was okay_.

Richie wanted to savor the reality of this moment – wanted to savor the fact that they’d defeated fate. Bill had been right when they were younger, they could take on _anything_ so long as they all stuck together. He figured that they could even beat this.

“Guys!” Beverly shouted, pulling Richie from his thoughts. “Hurry, in here!”

Richie and Eddie glanced at each other one last time before they stumbled to their feet and ducked into the cave Bev was gesturing to. The others piled in after them, each Loser muttering a different string of curses as Pennywise began to claw at the structure’s opening. _Stupid ass clown._

There was a brief moment where nobody said anything. Richie glanced around at the group and took in their disheveled state. They were all beaten and bruised, heaving out ragged breaths from the seemingly never-ending chase. Pennywise continued to shout useless taunts from beyond the cave’s entrance.

Eddie let out a sharp gasp and turned to the group with a wild expression. They all looked to him expectantly, curious and a bit concerned.

“I think I know how to kill It, for real this time,” Eddie said, voice still shaky from the sprint over. Richie almost half expected to see him reach for an inhaler that wasn’t there.

He didn’t, though. He had always been the brave one after all.

Eddie proved this by explaining to them how he’d made It small – how he’d grasped his worst fear in his shaking fists and forcefully willed it away. It hadn’t completely worked (the stains on his collar were obvious proof of this). But those technicalities didn’t really matter, the principle of what he said was still sat right across their laps. _All living things must abide by the laws of the shape they inhabit._

Everything that transpired after that revelation felt like a fever dream Richie couldn’t quite shake.

It was all a messy cluster of loud curses and childish taunts thrown at Pennywise. This _eater of worlds_ caved so easily to their words that Richie wondered why they couldn’t have accomplished this twenty-seven years ago. He probably would have had some better comebacks too…

Richie thought, a bit morbidly, that he’d never felt as free as he did then – crowded around the source of his nightmares with it’s scared, beating heart clutched between his thumb and open palm. He glanced around at his friends and found that they each wore the same relieved expression.

Watching the cave come down was also strangely liberating. The walls violently shook and rocks shattered across the dirty floor. This malevolent thing that had been burrowed beneath the town of Derry since the beginning of time, was crashing all around them. Richie thought it felt a bit like watching the world end. He also thought it felt a bit like watching the birth of something new, something promising.

The Losers immediately sprinted for the exit and when Richie stumbled amongst the chaos of it all, Eddie took ahold of his hand – grip steady and firm and _there_ – and led them out together.

It was cathartic to see that black-hearted house lose its pulse. The ground swallowed the building whole. All of the dust and dirt and rotting floorboards were now buried far beneath the surface. Every grotesque remnant of the house on Neibolt street was nothing but a memory – a bad dream for them to wake up from.

The only thing that held steady amongst the fall of the house was the bright, yellow sunflowers that were still scattered across the yard – Richie thought it was somehow fitting that they’d lived after all these years. _After this._

When the ground sucked that house into the Earth, it took all of the grief that had once weighed so heavily on the Losers with it. There would still be scars, of course there would. You didn’t just outgrow the trauma that came with fighting an eldritch space clown, Richie knew this. But still, everything felt different somehow – lighter.

Richie felt the pressure in his hand grow tighter and he tore his gaze away from the house to look at Eddie. The worry lines between his brows were smoothed out and he wore a loose smile. His face was set, relieved in a way Richie had never seen in any of his years of knowing Eddie.

Richie squeezed his hand in return, then let go.

The walk to the quarry afterwards was silent. The only thing he could make out was the squelching of their footsteps and the occasional soft sigh. The sun bore down on them as they trekked through the woods, same old sticky Derry heat. Richie found it strange that they’d walked out of something so dark to be met with such a blinding light.

When they finally reached the quarry, Beverly was the first to jump.

Her red hair and porcelain skin caught in the sun as she took the leap, and Richie remembered seeing the same thing when he was thirteen years old. Ben followed shortly after, barely managing to tug off his jacket and toe off his shoes before he dove in.

Mike let his head hang forward for a moment, then, after a resolute nod, he climbed over the wooden barrier to jump.

Stan and Bill went together, like Richie knew they would. They leaped over the edge with Stan’s wrist firm in Bill’s grasp and their hair flailing wildly behind them on the way down.

After Richie saw their heads duck beneath the cliff, he turned to look at Eddie. His head peered over the edge and he watched the murky water below with balled fists. He stood like this for a few moments before he finally moved and caught Richie’s gaze.

“Together?” Eddie asked, voice firm and eyes determined.

Richie nodded, like it was natural – like this response was second nature. He figured it kind of was. He’d never been one to deny Eddie anything.

“Together,” he said, with an equally strong conviction.

Richie took a tentative step forward, slow so as to not startle Eddie. He tried to gently pry open his still closed fist and intertwine their fingers. Eddie didn’t flinch at any of it, he willingly let Richie take his hand and lead him to the edge.

It was like when they were kids, one of them always tugging the other along on a little rendezvous. It was the same old blind trust they’d placed in each other. Something about that sentiment flooded Richie with a warmth that he couldn’t pass off as the Derry heat.

They spared each other a fleeting glance before Eddie (ever the impatient one) sent them both hurdling towards the cloudy pool below.

The water was cool, dirtier than when they were young but all encompassing nonetheless. Richie could still feel Eddie’s loose grip on his hand. He was lamely tugging at his arm, trying to get Richie to resurface.

Richie wasn’t ready to come up yet – wasn’t ready to face the fact that it was finally over. He was afraid of breaking the water’s surface only to realize that they were still back at Neibolt. He was afraid to come up and see that everything he’d just gotten back would be gone again. He was afraid that what he’d seen in the deadlights was true. Richie was _afraid_.

But he came up anyways. His lungs began to burn and his chest began to ache and he realized that he couldn’t hold his breath for that long anymore. _Maybe he really should have quit smoking when Eddie told him to._

When Richie came up for air, gasping and pushing the hair out of his eyes, the sight he was met with brought on nothing but relief. Stan, Bill, and Mike were all splashing around near the water’s edge. Ben and Beverly were crowding into each other’s space, pressing their foreheads together fondly. Eddie was clutching at his hand and his eyes were darting worriedly over Richie’s face. They were all still whole and safe and _there_.

“ _Rich_ ,” Eddie muttered, tugging at his hand. “Richie what’s wrong?”

“Huh?”

Eddie pulled the glasses from Richie’s face and placed them in his shaking palm. Richie hadn’t expected for Eddie to take his wet face in his hands and start rubbing at the skin beneath his eyes, so he flinched a bit at the contact. Eddie looked hurt, but he didn’t let go.

“You’re crying. Are you okay? Are you in pain?” He asked, still looking Richie over.

Richie shook his head and screwed his eyes shut.

“You gotta tell me if something’s wrong, Chee.”

And that was it, the tipping point that sent everything toppling over the edge.

Richie felt the sob that was clawing at his throat finally push past his lips. The crying was soft at first, just a trickle of tears down his dirty cheeks. But before he could figure out how to contain it, Richie was already a hiccuping, stuttering mess.

He felt hands all over him – on his back and arms and legs. His friends were huddled around him, creating a wall of comfort that seemed to separate Richie from the rest of the world. They were each stroking gently at his shoulders or reassuringly squeezing at the soft skin of his biceps. He could barely make out Eddie’s blurry form in front of him, pushing the hair out of his eyes and placing a light kiss against his forehead.

“It’s okay now, honey,” Beverly whispered, and something about the way she said it made Richie think that maybe for once it could be true.

“We’re okay now,” Bill said, louder. And they all knew that if their brave leader spoke it into existence, then it _had_ to be true.

“Thank you,” Richie (who calmed enough to speak) paused to take in a shaky breath, “ I don’t have my glasses on so I don’t know who you people are, but thank you.”

They each burst into a fit of laughter before Richie realized something and cut them off, “I legit can’t find my glasses.”

“Are you serious?” The Losers questioned in unison.

Richie nodded and glanced hopelessly at that dirty water around them. They must have slipped out of his grasp in between all the commotion. He looked at each of them and offered an apologetic grin.

Their collective groans broke the peaceful moment as they all moved away to find Richie’s lost lenses.

He took comfort in Stan’s grumbling and Mike’s determined, searching face. Ben and Bill, ever the kind ones, went straight to wading through the water. Beverley placed a fleeting kiss to his temple before she released Richie and ducked beneath the water to help the other’s look.

Eddie huffed, but it was full of affection. Richie could tell by the way he looked at him, with his eyes wide and his grin bright. His hand remained entangled with Richie’s for the rest of the afternoon and everything felt like it was finally looking up.

Later, once Richie’s glasses were found and their clothes were dry, the Losers walked back to the townhouse to pack everything up. None of them wanted to stick around Derry any longer than they needed to, so they all decided to leave in the morning. There was still stuff that needed to be settled in their lives that they couldn’t necessarily work out from here anyways.

Richie was nervous at first, he didn’t want to let them go in fear of losing touch with them again. Before he even had the chance to voice any of his worries, though, they all planned a small group road-trip for the following month. They exchanged every form of contact information possible and tested it on each phone just to double check. Richie felt a bit of his anxieties ease up at that.

Of course, this didn’t last long.

Because Richie was still harboring a three-decade-old secret. His ribs were still cradling feelings that hadn’t seen the surface. Every pent up emotion he’d held in his steadfast heart were starting to pound right out of his chest and no amount of fear or self restraint in the world could keep them caged in anymore.

_He still loved Eddie despite all the time and distance that separated them._

It had been hours since they’d each said goodnight. It was nearly three in the morning and Richie was still awake – anxiously drumming his fingers against the firm mattress beneath him. He thought about stepping out for a cigarette, but realized that the pack in his jacket pocket had gotten soaked through. Plus, he didn’t really want to put his mouth on whatever the fuck was in the sewer and quarry water.

Eventually, Richie couldn’t take the nervous energy that had long since flooded his systems. He was tired of holding onto this secret that didn’t need to be held onto anymore. He was tired of working so diligently to keep every jumbled up confession caught tight between his lips. Richie was fucking _exhausted_.

Which is exactly why he threw back the itchy townhouse comforter, slipped on his hoodie, and stormed out of his room to go knock on Eddie’s door.

It took a while for him to answer, which was expected given the time. Realistically they all should have been asleep by now, but he was persistent. Richie had to keep knocking for a bit before he saw a light flick on beneath the door and heard the shuffling of feet from the other side of it.

The sight Richie was met with couldn’t be described as anything other than _soft._ Eddie’s hair was mussed up, sticking out at every odd angle imaginable. His clothes were rumpled and his eyes were still heavy with sleep. He rubbed at his face and curled his toes when he yawned.

Richie was thrown back to 1994 – back to when he was eighteen and terrified of everything. Back to when he witnessed a similar sight from Eddie’s bedroom window. Back to that cool June morning when he left his heart with this sleep-addled, supernova boy.

“Chee?” Eddie questioned, voice laced with concern and confusion. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Richie took in a deep breath, counted _one, two, three,_ and before he could stop himself…

“I love you,” he said – just a bit breathless and all the more _relieved, relieved, relieved._

It was heavy on his tongue and tasted like twenty-seven years, but he couldn’t get enough of the way those words felt in his mouth. They were saccharine, the type of sweet that could give you a toothache. It vaguely reminded Richie of the vanilla ice cream cones Eddie would buy them in the summer.

“What?” Eddie asked in disbelief. All of the sleep looked like it had been knocked right out of him. His eyes were frantic and searching for something that Richie didn’t know if he had.

Richie didn’t care, he just wanted to say it again. So he did.

“I love you.”

He let his gaze linger on Eddie. He wanted to watch the way those words registered with him. Wanted to watch how they flooded his ears. Wanted to watch how they settled on his skin…

Richie drank in the familiar way Eddie’s eyes widened, then glazed over with tears. He watched in awe at the way Eddie’s face and ears flushed in the same way they had when they were younger. It had been _years_ , but Richie could still make out the star-like freckles that bunched up with the skin along the bridge of his nose.

Eddie took a slow step forward – small and cautious, like he was scared of crossing a line that Richie already had.

“Say it again,” he muttered.

“I love you.” Richie said, unwaveringly.

He took a step to match Eddie’s and gently kicked the door shut behind him. Eddie was now completely crowded into his space and looking up at him through his lashes, expression open and a bit pained – like he couldn’t believe any of it.

“Again.”

Richie leaned down, just the slightest, and realized he was close enough to whisper it against his lips.

“ _I love you._ ”

And then Eddie was kissing him – pushing him up against the door and breaking down all barriers that should have been broken twenty-seven fucking years ago.

Richie kissed him back with everything he had. He kissed him with all the desperation and adoration he’d built up since he was thirteen. He kissed him the way he should have that night before he left for California. Richie kissed Eddie like it hurt and like he never wanted it to stop anyways.

When they broke apart they were both breathing hard, panting against each other’s lips like a bunch of teenagers. Eddie’s fingers were tangled in Richie’s hair and playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. Richie’s hands were at Eddie’s waist, bunching up the fabric of his t-shirt there. It was everything that should have happened when they were _sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…_

Eddie nudged at Richie’s nose with his and kissed him again – softer this time. Featherlight and quick like the one he placed on Richie’s cheek all those Christmases ago.

“ _I love you too,_ ” he sighed against Richie’s lips.

And _wow_ hearing it was so much better than saying it.

“ _God,_ ” Eddie chuckled, “I’ve loved you since we were kids.”

Richie beamed at him and kissed him again, less desperate but just as eager.

Eventually (when they were too tired to stand) they moved to the bed and wrapped themselves up in each other and the cotton sheets. They spoke softly in the dark – caught up on the lives that hadn’t twisted together in the way they thought they would. Richie figured it was okay now, they had plenty of time.

They talked about _everything_. Richie shared every crazy college story he could remember and every messy fan encounter he’d experienced. Eddie complained about his stresses at work and every regretful business dinner he’d attended. They even spoke about Myra, and the way Eddie had called it off as soon as he got back to Derry.

“Aw, Eds!” Richie exclaimed, much too loud for the quiet of their room. “Did you break up with her for me?”

Eddie scoffed and shoved at his shoulder, “No you dipshit! I called it off because how the fuck was I supposed to just go back to my normal life after all this? How would I even explain any of this to her once I got back?”

“It’s okay Eds,” Richie teased, “you don’t have to be embarrassed I know you did it all for me.”

“I give up,” Eddie groaned, and Richie chuckled lightly at his annoyance.

A silence settled over them after that, comfortable in the way that it always was with them. Richie let his thoughts roll endlessly around his head for a few moments before he realized that there was something he’d wanted to ask Eddie.

“Hey, Eds.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you realize that you loved me?”

The question was a bit muffled since it was spoken against the top of his hair, but Richie knew it was still clear enough for Eddie to make out.

Eddie hummed, “There were bunch of little moments that I think helped me realize my feelings, but the one that stuck with me the most was when you came over that first time after Neibolt.”

“The day you broke your arm?”

Richie could feel Eddie nod against his chest.

“What about you?” He asked.

Richie thought it over for a moment, then spoke, “I don’t have a specific moment, but I guess I knew it was _real_ after I carved our initials into that stupid bridge.”

“You carved our initials into the kissing bridge?” Eddie asked, sounding a bit shocked.

Richie flustered at his own admission, but still answered honestly, “Yeah, when your mom put you on lockdown.”

Eddie pushed himself up a bit so that he was hovering over Richie. He stared down at him with so much affection that Richie almost had to look away.

“That’s a little cheesy.”

“Hey!”

Eddie grinned before placing a brief kiss on Richie’s lips,“But it’s also really sweet.”

Richie shook his head and rolled his eyes, but he was sure that the expression looked nothing but fond.

“Alright let’s at least try to catch a few hours of sleep before tomorrow,” Eddie said, resettling against Richie’s chest. “It’s a long drive to California.”

“You’re coming back with me?” Richie questioned in disbelief.

“Well,” Eddie paused, “if you’ll have me. I still have stuff in New York that I’ve got to settle, but I think it can wait for at least another week.”

Richie didn’t hesitate in the firm nod and kiss to the forehead he gave Eddie.

They didn’t speak much after that, but right before he drifted off, Richie could’ve sworn he heard Eddie whisper something that sounded awfully like, “ _God, I love you_.”

When they woke up the next morning and piled both of their belongings into the back of Richie’s rental, none of the Losers questioned it. They didn’t question the way Eddie grumpily tucked himself into Richie’s side or the way Richie responded by pressing a kiss to his temple. They didn’t questioned the fact that their hands were clasped together or that their fingers were intertwined.

The Losers all just shared a knowing smile and wished the pair a safe trip back.

Richie felt the same relief driving past the Derry limits at age forty as he did at seventeen.

There was a different sense of liberation this time around though. Now he had Eddie – the boy he’d loved practically his whole life – mindlessly placing a kiss against his knuckles while he shifted through the different radio stations. He had their luggage packed up in the trunk of his car. He had the sun laying out the road back home for the both of them.

Richie had _love_ , in all its range at full force.

He watched, for the last time, as their hometown grew smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror.

Then, Richie looked over at Eddie from across the center console, and _breathed._

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to say once again that it was a pleasure to write this fic! These characters deserved so much more than they got in the film/book (both of which I thoroughly enjoy don’t get me wrong). LET THE GAYS LIVE! That is all, thanks for coming to my TED Talk. Anyways, love you guys! Stay safe and most importantly happy xoxo (p.s. please take extra good care of yourself with all this coronavirus shit going on, wash your hands and social distance and all that jazz.) (p.p.s. follow my insta @stormysirens)


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